


The Warmth Of Your Love's Like The Warmth From The Sun

by theworldunseen



Series: jb week 2019 [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Mad Men AU, this is very self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 08:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldunseen/pseuds/theworldunseen
Summary: Brienne walked into work that morning feeling terrible. It might have been the hangover from the whiskey she’d had in her office yesterday afternoon. But probably it was the emotional hangover from her fight with Jaime.The "Mad Men" Peggy Olson-Stan Rizzo AU that literally no one asked for.





	The Warmth Of Your Love's Like The Warmth From The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Last day of jb week! What fun we’ve had! I hope you’ve enjoyed these increasingly pointless oneshots! This is nominally for “hope.”
> 
> Way before season 8 started, I joked on Twitter that I wanted Jaime and Brienne admitting they loved each other to play out like Stan and Peggy on Mad Men. Find the scene at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AgYoVZDujI for reference (you ought to watch it, it’s incredible, but maybe after you read this because i really just directly lifted most of the dialogue). So I decided to write this Mad Men AU, but uhh literally just this one scene.
> 
> Background is that J and B used to work at another, smaller advertising firm (Stark-Snow-Lannister), which just got bought by a new one (Targaryen). Brienne writes the words, Jaime draws the pictures. Brienne’s mentor, Jon Snow (truly only chosen because Jon rhymes with Don), has run off to some hippie retreat.
> 
> The title of this fic comes from The Zombies’ “This Will Be Our Year.”

Brienne walked into work that morning feeling terrible. It might have been the hangover from the whiskey she’d had in her office yesterday afternoon. But probably it was the emotional hangover from her fight with Jaime.

She’d just wanted his opinion about Sansa’s offer, to leave this nest of vipers and strike out on their own. It was appealing, for sure. At Stark-Snow-Lannister, they’d both worked for years to get the men to trust them, to treat them with respect. It hadn’t been without its humiliations. She remembers when she and Jaime had first started working together. Jon had sent them off to a hotel room so they could spend a weekend coming up with a new lipstick campaign. 

Jaime told her she was too dumb and too ugly and too uptight to succeed in advertising. He’d undressed, trying to use his disgustingly perfect body to intimidate her.

Brienne hadn’t blinked. She stripped off her clothes and sat naked at her typewriter until he was ready to work. (When Brienne had reminded him of this incident a couple months ago, he spent a week apologizing.)

“Do you really want to go through all of that again?” Sansa had asked her over drinks. “Why make them rich when we could use our brains to make ourselves rich?”

It was a compelling offer.

But Jaime was also right — Brienne didn’t want to be a producer. She wanted to do what she already did, which was write damn good advertisements. 

But instead of listening to his points, she’d insulted him until he ran away. 

She spent all morning brooding over it until her phone rang. It was Jon.  _ Finally. _

After the five minute phone call, she was shaken. There was only one person she wanted to talk to. She dialed and listened to the phone ring and ring.

“Lannister,” he said when he answered, bored. 

“It’s me,” she said. 

“What do you want?” he asked. He sounded annoyed, but something fond slipped into his voice anyway. 

“I just got off the phone with Jon,” she said, unable to keep the shaking out of her voice.

“Are you kidding me? Where the hell is he?” 

“Beyond the Wall! But he didn’t say where or when he’s coming back and I’m really worried about him.”

Jaime sighed. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “Could you give me a minute?” Brienne could hear him say to someone in his office, muffled as the noise was. She wondered who was in there with him — one of the new coworkers he’d complained about, probably.

Then he said, “He always does this and he always comes back. He’s a survivor, he’s gonna be OK.” It was generic, like he’d practiced it. It started to comfort her, despite herself.

“You didn’t hear him. He wasn’t making any sense,” she explained. Jaime exhaled again.

“You’ve got to let him go. Doesn’t mean you stop caring about him. Did you tell Tyrion?”

“Not yet,” she admitted, already feeling a little better.

“It’s going to be fine,” he said. He was right. She knew he was right. How could he do that, make her feel better just with the sound of his voice. Make her feel better even though she’d hurt him less than 24 hours ago.

“I’m sorry I said those shitty things to you. I don’t believe them.” She’d called him a failure. She couldn’t even repeat it now, it was too mean, knowing how much he’d struggled to establish himself on his own merits, after failing out of high school. It was a low blow.

“Look, you’re gonna do great no matter what you do, if you decide you want to stop writing.” Jaime’s voice was soft and rumbly. She could immediately picture him, stretched back in his chair, running a hand through his enormous beard. 

“I think you were right,” she offered. “I mean, I’m gonna stay.”

“Good because I didn’t want you to leave.” He said it so plainly.

“Then why didn’t you just say that?” she asked, annoyed. Why were they even in a fight?

“Because every time I’m face to face with you I want to strangle you,” he said, like he  _ really _ meant it. “And then I miss you when I go away. I miss you and I call you on the phone and I get the person I want to talk to.”

She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. 

“That’s not true.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know what it is, but when I’m standing in front of you, I bring out something terrible.” Brienne hated when he talked about himself like that. He wasn’t terrible. He could  _ be _ terrible, but it wasn’t who he was, not really. But he laughed and she knew he hadn’t really gone to that dark place.

“I think about how you came into my life and you drove me crazy and now…” his voice trailed off for a second. “I don’t even know what to do with myself because all I want to do is be with you.”

Brienne jerked back.

“What? What’d you just say?” She couldn’t have heard him correctly. Surely he meant be together at work. Right? 

Jaime couldn’t have been clearer as he slowly repeated himself: “I want to be with you.” Another pause and Brienne couldn’t breathe. “I’m in love with you,” he rumbled out.

Brienne tried to let it sink in, but nothing was making sense. “What?” she asked. She almost pinched her leg to make sure she was awake.

“I love you, Brienne,” he tried again, sounding resigned. 

“Oh my god. That’s what I thought you said.” She tried to catch her breath and failed. “I — I — I don’t know what to say. I feel like I can’t breathe. I mean, I don’t even think about you.”

Jaime groaned. That wasn’t what she meant.

“I mean I do! All the time because...you’re there,” she said. She thought about the warmth she felt in her chest when he laughed with her or smiled at her or touched her arm. “And you’re here,” she added, putting her hand over her heart. She thought about how he was the one she always called when she had a problem. The only person who knew all her secrets.

“And you make everything OK. You always do. No matter what.” She could hear him shifting on the other side of the phone. Jaime. She started to tear up at the thought of him. Of him loving her. “I mean, I must be. Because you’re always right.” She let the tears fall and smile. This was really happening. “I can’t believe this,” she admitted with a little sniff. She laughed. “I think I’m in love with you, too.”

She remembered one of the last days in their old office, when they’d stayed up late working on a campaign for a very annoying client together. She’d fallen asleep on the couch and woken up with her head in his lap, his fingers running through her hair. She’d felt so safe and warm in that moment. That’s how she felt now. Could she feel like that...forever?

“I really do,” she said again, wiping the tears from her face. She laughed again, but Jaime didn’t say anything on the other end.

“Jaime? Are you there?” Goddammit, did the call drop? She stood up as she started to slam all the different buttons on the phone. “Jaime?”

She heard someone outside running to her office. He stopped in the doorway. Finally. Jaime.

He took a second to catch his breath. He was wearing this ridiculous floral shirt and a vest, like he was on the  _ Brady Bunch _ . His hair flew every which way and there might have been crumbs in his ridiculous beard. He’d never been more handsome.

“You were saying?” he said. She put down the phone. This was both the most real and the most surreal moment of her entire life.

“I love you.” Five minutes ago she wasn’t sure and now saying it was the easiest thing in the world. She walked around her desk. He walked into the room. they could’ve run, but they didn’t rush. 

He put his hands on either side of her head as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and they finally,  _ finally _ kissed. His mouth was hot against hers, his lips lush and soft and perfect. He slid his arms around her back and pulled her closer.

With her ex-boyfriend, Hyle, she’d always wished she were smaller. Being with Hyle always made her feel too big, too manly. 

But being with Jaime made her feel just right. She felt like she was made to hold him in her arms. She didn’t want to let go.

Except a moment later, her secretary Pia was knocking on the door. The door they’d left open. They sprung apart.

“Peggy,” Pia said, like she had seen nothing. Brienne was going to have to get her an exorbitant Christmas present. “Tormund just called to cancel your meeting.”

Brienne nodded as she straightened out her sweater. Jaime sheepishly leaned against her desk, head in his hand. 

“That means the rest of your day is clear,” Pia said, helpfully. 

“Oh,” Brienne said, realizing what she meant. She looked at Jaime, who had something truly devious in his eye. “Do you have any lingering commitments today?”

He grinned at her, looking truly wicked.

“Oh no, Ms. Tarth,” he said. “I think the rest of my schedule is clear. I’m sure Pia wouldn’t mind informing Peck that I’ve left the premises for the remainder of the day, would you?”

Pia nodded and excused herself. Jaime went to grab Brienne again, but she ducked away from his embrace to grab her jacket and bag. He frowned.

“Let’s go,” she said, placing a hand on his waist to usher him out of the room. 

“Where are we going?” he whispered in her ear as he leaned close.

“There’s that diner down the block,” she said. “We could get egg creams.”

He hummed his approval. She squeezed his hip as they entered the elevator.

“Or,” she said, “My apartment’s a ten-minute walk and we could order a pizza in...two hours.”

He went on his toes to kiss the top of her head.

“Three hours,” he said as the elevator closed and she kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes i spent 10 minute googling “could you get a pizza delivered in 1969.” results were inconclusive.
> 
> thanks to everyone who read my jb week fics, which got more and more self-indulgent as the week went on.


End file.
